My internal chronometer is all fucked up.
I had just started getting used to the shift after Daylight Saving Time. Mornings were starting to get easier and I was starting to fall asleep at night when I should. I wasn’t dragging quite so much as I was when the clocks first got set ahead. All that came to a screeching halt after I got off the plane in Las Vegas.
Las Vegas is on Pacific time, which is three hours behind New England’s Eastern time. As I write this, it’s ten past five at home. It’s ten past two here. I’m ready for dinner. We ate “lunch” at 10 o’clock local time. I woke up, ready to start my day, at four in the morning.
I have a sinking suspicion that coming home is going to be hell. To make it even MORE fun, I get to be a single mom for the rest of the week while Mr. Chili is in New Mexico on business. What I’m saying here is that I don’t want to be a cranky, sleep deprived bitch. My kids don’t deserve that and, frankly, I wouldn’t like it much, either.
Does anyone know if it would be helpful or harmful if I tried to sleep on the plane on the way home? I have some ‘sleepy’ Tylenol, and I have no problem with popping a couple of them when I get on the plane in Vegas at 6:30 Monday morning (9:30 Eastern), but I don’t want to do that if it’s going to make it harder for me when I get back to home time.